Following Fabian (5 page)

Holy shit, he was distracting.

Astrid tried to focus on putting all the right digits into her phone in the correct sequence, but every time Fabian moved in her periphery, she had to look at him.

Although he was thinner than his probable usual weight, he had a phenomenal physique. He’d worked hard for it on those trapezes for a lot of years, though. Only a small percentage of what he and Felipe had done for the circus had been smoke and mirrors. Yes, sometimes one or both would phase into their invisible forms to confuse the crowds, but mostly the thrill show was all them, flying from one flimsy swing to the next.

Felipe had said he was happy to be done with that part of his life, because at thirty-five he was “too old for that shit,” but did Fabian miss it? What would be his livelihood now? Would he be as adaptable as his brother?

Astrid gave up on dialing Eric’s number, and turned her attention to the semi-clad acrobat perched on the end of the bed.

His wet hair draped over his shoulders, and he batted a knot out of a section with her comb.

“Dress, please,” she pled.

He looked up from his hair and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Dress. Uh…wait. Where’d that book go?” She shuffled through the sheath of papers on the desktop until she found the little dictionary. She turned to the
D
section. “Uh.
Por favor, vestirse.
”

“Why?” His lips quirked up at one corner, and he went back to detangling his long hair. Even Felipe didn’t grow his hair that long, and maybe Fabian didn’t generally either. Perhaps she should offer him her little pair of nail scissors.

She narrowed her eyes and watched him make frustrated swats at his hair.

Nah. The hair kind of reminded her of one of those hot Scotsmen on the covers of romance novels set in medieval times. She wouldn’t tell
him
that, though. That would be admitting she read those things, and that she gave any thought to romance at all.

“Why? Because you’re really fucking distracting.” No, his
cock
was really fucking distracting. How had he worn those skimpy costumes for all those years without women pouring into the center ring and swarming him after he climbed down the ladder?

“I don’t understand.” He wore that grin again.

“Grr, give me the comb.” She held out her hand, and he dropped her comb into it. Sighing, she stepped into the open V of his legs and he wrapped his arms around her thighs as she combed out his snarls.

“No need to get too cozy,” she said.

“Why not? I can understand you this way.”

“I suspect everything you do and say is calculated to a T, isn’t that right?”

“More or less.” He skimmed his hands up her thighs, and she gave his hair a hard yank.

“Dragon.”

“Been called worse.”

“It wouldn’t be so tangled if you’d let me finish my shower. Conditioner has its uses.”

“I’d prefer to not have your brother pissed at me, thank you very much.”

“That doesn’t sound like Felipe. He’s very laidback.”

“Less so, lately. His patience is shot, and I can’t say I blame him.”

“I never imagined us settling down, and he seems to have rooted himself rather quickly.”

She leaned in a bit closer, so the side of Fabian’s face pressed against her torso, and worked the back of his head.

His hands moved to the small of her back, and eased up beneath her shirt, skin-to-skin.

She let out a breath and struggled to suppress the shudder. When he touched her like that, she had a hard time separating out words from impulses—holding back the things she
really
should not say.

“I think roots suit him.”

“Can’t wait to see it for myself.”

“What about you? What are you going to do when you’ve got this mess behind you? Given any thought to where you want to be?”

“I thought about it a little. I always assumed we’d go back to Spain, but Felipe said there’s nothing there for us. I trust his word, so I suppose I’ll have to make alternate plans.”

“Dana would hire you.”

“You say that as if it’s a certain thing.”

“It is. You already know what we are, and you’re already in the loop about all the hinky paranormal stuff going on around us. You’re in good shape, can probably hold your own in a fight, assuming no tranquilizer darts are involved.”

“Ha ha.” His hands moved a bit higher, and his thumbs spread around her ribcage, both tickling her and arousing her with each tiny stroke of the pads.

Her sex clenched, and she drew in another breath.

She couldn’t let him know how he was affecting her. She wasn’t a weak woman easily susceptible by a bit of attention and pretty words aimed her way. She’d always been that tough nut to crack because she knew what she was, and she’d rather be alone than have all of her foibles laid bare and picked apart for someone else’s amusement.

“Um.” She closed her eyes and concentrated on the task at hand. She felt for snarls and tangles in his thick hair, and finding none, she backed up a pace. “I think I got them all. You can ponytail up now. And you can also let go of me.”

“What if I don’t want to let go of you?”

“Everyone has things they desire, but grown-ups know they can’t always act on them.”

“And that goes back to why you’re so insistent I put my clothes on. I’ve been half-naked most of my life. I’m comfortable this way.”

“And I’m
uncomfortable
with you that way.” She reached beneath her shirt and trapped his wrists, only to gasp at the increased contact.

She wanted to let go, but it was like touching a stove burner and not feeling the heat until too late.

“Why does it make you uncomfortable? Because you want to have sex with me?”

“Wow, you
really
don’t hash your words.”

His shoulders bobbed, and the smirk he’d been wearing drew in. “Are you with someone?”

“That is
so
far from being an issue it’s not even funny.”

“Do I repulse you, then?”

“I think you know better than that.”

She could hardly stop looking at him—that beautiful face. That gorgeous body. And he looked at
her
as if she were desirable, and not just a convenient vessel.

“So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t help you take your clothes off.”

A dry chuckle escaped her lips. “I’ll give you two. One, we’re working. Two, the last guy I had sex with, I ended up smashing the windshield of his car and keying its paint job. I may or may not have punctured his tires. That was four years ago and I was in a rage, so my memory of the event may be faulty.”

“Why did you destroy his car?”

“Because I’m a dragon. You said it yourself. Dragons get angry and destroy things.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m certain you’re oversimplifying.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just have a temper problem.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You’ve known me a day. You’re probably not the best person to make judgment calls. Maybe you haven’t gotten me angry enough yet.”

“And perhaps I have no intention of ever pushing you to that point. I’d like to know what your buttons are so I can be sensitive to them.”

She squinted at him. “Why?”

“Because that’s the decent way to treat people. Why else? Road signs help people navigate, and I’m man enough to admit I need them sometimes.”

She shouldn’t have been so surprised that there was a brain in that pretty head. Felipe had one. Why not his brother?

“Oh,” she said quietly.

She wasn’t sure what to think. He could have been saying what he thought she wanted to hear. That’s what men usually did when they wanted her to just shut up and take off her clothes, but no man had ever asked for help understanding her before. They’d just made whatever assumptions they saw fit and acted accordingly.

What did Fabian want, besides sex? Revenge on Jacques, obviously, but then what? They’d bond over a nice screw, bring down the bad guy, and then he’d go away?

She may have been an insufferable Shrew, but she had feelings. She didn’t want to risk bonding with this guy only for him to disappear, both literally and figuratively.

At twenty-eight years old, she was running out of pieces of her heart to give away, so she couldn’t let Fabian have one of them.

Just sex. Just touching. Maybe that’d be okay, if she didn’t think so much…if she didn’t let her cerebral meanderings get in the way of the pleasure.

She threaded her fingers through his damp hair and nudged his head back so he looked up at her. “Okay.”

“Okay what? Please be clear.”

“Okay, I’d like to have sex with you. Right now.”

Right now, and she hadn’t even called that federal agent Dana kept harping about.

“Then kiss me,” he said.

She gave up the small distance she’d put between them and nestled her thighs between his legs. She grazed his cheeks with her fingertips as she brought her lips down to his.

At first, she teased his lips, barely skimming them. Then, she explored the seam with her tongue tip, tasting mint from toothpaste and honey from her lip balm.

She flitted her tongue over his mouth as if to ask,
Can I come in?
and when he parted them, she let him take the lead.

His kiss was passionate, and more importantly, skilled. He knew exactly when to use a little more thrust, and when to let up. When to tease, and when to hold back and submit to her.

He turned her face slightly and kissed up her jaw to her ear, which he grabbed between his teeth and gave a gentle pull. His whisper of, “Let’s take off your shirt,” was breathy.

She nodded, and all four hands went to her shirt hem. She let him have the honors, and dipped her head as he bunched her shirt up past her breasts and off her.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He pressed his hands over her lace-covered breasts and gave them a tentative squeeze before nudging the fronts down to expose her.

He drew one into his mouth and gave it a forceful suck. The slight abrasion of his teeth on her delicate bud made her whimper and draw up onto her tiptoes. He licked where he’d scraped, and then repeated the process on the other side.

She looked down at her wet, peaked nipple and her breasts suddenly felt very full, and very heavy.

When his palm pressed farther down her belly and breached her waistband, the fog in her brain cleared.

“Wait.”

He kissed her belly, sending tiny jolts of pleasure into her core and intensifying her arousal.

“Fabian…” She placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a gentle nudge back. She took a step back, too. “I’m sorry to say this, but we can’t do this.”

He stared, unblinking at her. “Why not?”

“Look, we’ve got nothing to use for protection, and given your brother knocked my friend up pretty much on the first try, I’m not taking chances.”

“That idea is so repulsive to you?”

“What, having a baby? No, that’s not repulsive at all. I’m not exactly aging backward here, and being a Shrew means my fertility is somewhat questionable as it is. I’m more bothered by the idea of having a baby
alone
, and having to raise him or her with no support while working a job like the one I have.”

“I see.” He crossed his arms and those soft lips of his pressed into a flat line.

Great. That should make the rest of this case go by lickety-split.

“You’re angry at me. I understand. You probably think I’m leading you around by a leash.”

He gave his head a small shake. He probably didn’t understand her, now that their connection had broken, but she didn’t have time to explain—to placate him.

She put up her hands and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” and strode to the door with her phone. She had calls to make. She wasn’t in South Dakota on a vacation, after all. There were criminals to track and Bear drama to get home to.

She pulled open the door and strode down the hallway toward the elevator. She needed space and air. Maybe she’d stay in her own room instead of following Felipe around. He was a grown-ass man. He didn’t need her to babysit him.

That’s all it was. Babysitting.

Right.

Eric answered the phone on the third ring. “Falk Tavern and Lodge, this is Eric. How may I help you?”

“Would you care to explain to me why you cancelled a family tradition dating back nearly seventy years?” Astrid paced near the hotel’s side entrance and used her free right hand to chafe her other arm. It was a ball-freezing, blustery day.

“Hello, little sister. How are you? I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” he said drily.

She sighed. “Hello, Eric. How are things, really?”

“As well as could be expected given the circumstances.”

“Meaning what? When I left, you were a bit overrun with shapeshifters and other assorted supernatural types, but everything else seemed to be business as usual. What are these new circumstances you’re referring to?”

“I would have preferred to lay it on you in person.”

“Are you dying?”

“Me? No. Not exactly.”

“Is something wrong with Nan or Pops?”

“No, they’re okay at the retirement community. I called them this morning. They asked about you, actually. Wondered if you were getting enough iron.”

She rolled her eyes. Yep. That sounded like Nan. “If it’s not them, then what? Give it to me straight. I’m outside and am about to freeze my gazongas off out here. It’s approximately twelve degrees in South Dakota with a wind chill factor of
fuck this shit
.”

“Wow. It’s a balmy fifty degrees here. Listen, don’t fly off the handle because histrionics won’t help at this point. About a week ago, right after you left, when I was out picking up supplies for the lodge I got attacked by two bears.”

She stopped pacing. “Bears or Were-bears?” She asked, but her gut already knew the answer.

“Weres, although both are pretty bad to deal with, I’d say.”

She ground her teeth, tempering her response. “No shit, Sherlock. Were the Bears Bryan’s?”

Tamara’s mate Bryan was in the midst of a Shrew-sanctioned mutiny. He intended to overthrow his group’s alpha—Gene—and reform the group. The Bears had once been known as the peacekeepers of the Smokies, but at the moment, they were better known for meth trafficking.

“Absolutely not. These were a couple of Gene’s. The only reason I know it was because they’d forced a shift and passed out after they lost the fight.”

“They lost? You mean you weren’t alone?”

“I wasn’t. Tamara’s brothers were with me. I had to pick up a couple of mattresses from the storage unit. I bribed them with food, so they tagged along to help. Gene’s Bears didn’t recognize their scents, or else I reckon they wouldn’t have attacked.”

“But they mauled you?”

“Yeah, they got a couple of good swipes in before Soren and Peter threw down that mattress they were carrying.”

She threw her free hand up and scoffed. “Unbe-
fucking
-lievable, what a cheap shot! I bet they targeted you specifically knowing you were my brother. You think you’ve been infected?”

“Don’t take it personally,” he said in a flat tone. “I doubt anyone knows who I am or even cares, but, yes, I’m pretty sure I was infected. Dana had your doc run some tests, and she compared them to a sample Dustin gave her. All the markers she checked looked positive for a made or infected Bear and not a born one.”

She grabbed her ponytail and gave it a yank. “Oh, my God.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m in good hands. The Ursu brothers are here, and Tamara and Bryan drop by at least twice per day. Maria’s been keeping an eye on me, too.”

“Are you on drugs? Why are you so calm? You seem far too calm given the circumstances. I don’t think you understand how dangerous this is.” She pushed her keycard into the slot and when the light turned green, pulled the side door open. She stepped into the warm corridor and jogged up the staircase. Screw waiting for the elevator.

“Yeah, I seem calm right now, but that’s just because it’s been eight days. I’m all out of rage.”

“Eight days! Are you fucking kidding me? Let me tell you something. You may have run out of rage, but I’ve got plenty for you, jackass. Just wait until I’m on the ground there again. Is this why Dana wanted me back in a week?”

“No. Well, not exactly. I’m merely an unexpected bonus of the Shrews’ Bear entanglement. She’s just keeping an ear to the ground and really does believe things are ramping up toward conflict. She wants all her players on the chess board before Gene makes a move.”

“When’s the full moon?”

“Little less than two weeks, but Bryan said newbies tend to shift on the days leading up to it and not just at the main event. They—we…” Now, his voice cracked but not with fear or sadness.
Laughter
, of all things. “We can’t help it.
I
won’t be able to help it. He’s going to lock me up in the bunker that week so I don’t harm myself or anyone else while me and my inner furball make nice-nice.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter, Eric.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t know what else to do. Haven’t even told Nan and Pops.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. Do you want them to die? To keel right over clutching those arrhythmic hearts of theirs?”

“Good point. Listen, I gotta go start dinner for the guests. Baked chicken night.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, changing the subject. Be happy I’m busy.”

“I’m not changing the subject. I really do have to go. Stop fretting, Astrid. It’s not a big deal. Call me.”

“You call
me
.”

“Fair enough. Bye.”

By the time she disconnected the call, she was in front of Fabian’s door. She slipped the key into the slot, and turned the handle.

A
Bear
. Her
brother
!

He kept begging for a cut of the Shrew action because he was so bored being
just an innkeeper
, and now he was going to get action in spades. She hoped he knew what he was getting into. Maybe he was just masochist enough that he started the tussle, knowing who those Bears were.

She considered that briefly, and shook her head.

No. He’d never been that sort of reckless. Still, she needed to find the number to that federal agent and get her up to speed fast so she could go home.

Her computer was buried under that pile of clothes she’d left on the desk, and…

She stopped in front of the bed and scanned each corner of the room.

Where was Fabian?

Backtracking, she checked the bathroom. The door was open, light off, and there was no sign of him.

“Don’t do this to me, dude.”

She jogged back into the main room and fell to her knees in front of the bed, lifting the bedskirt. She put her face against the cheap carpet and peered beneath the box spring.

No shoes. No backpack.

“Just my fucking luck.” She scrambled to her feet and grabbed the room’s phone.

The front desk operator answered on the fourth ring. “Yes, Ms. Falk? How can we help you?”

“Hi. By chance, would you have seen my guest walk past you in the past few minutes?”

“Well, I stepped away from the desk for a few moments, so I might have missed him.”

“How long, precisely, is a few moments?”

“Uh…”

Astrid willed herself to unclench the fists she’d reflexively made and relaxed her posture. The last thing she needed was one more thing to stress her out, and now here was this ditz at the front desk who seemingly couldn’t keep track of the basic difference between seconds and minutes. Even second-graders could do that.

“Probably about five minutes.”

She hung up without another word and reached for the keycard. Yeah, it was rude, but she’d always had a low tolerance for bullshit. Why couldn’t people just do their fucking jobs? Everything in life would run so much smoother if people just did their fucking jobs.

She took the side stairwell again, and descended two stairs at a time, hurrying toward the exit.

In the rental car, she jabbed the key into the ignition and pealed out of the parking lot without bothering with her seatbelt. Didn’t really matter if she wore it, except to appease the police. There wasn’t much that could hurt her. Her mutations had made her damn near invincible, though that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel pain.

She did, but not in the way she used to. She’d even gotten stitches a number of times without local anesthetic because the drug wouldn’t have done her any good with her accelerated metabolism, anyway.

“Calm yourself. Calm yourself,” she repeated as she drove in a meticulous grid around the hotel, scanning the sidewalk for glimpses of one very troublesome acrobat.

Why had he left? He should have known she’d be upset. This was her
job
, finding him, and finding him didn’t count if he disappeared again before she delivered him to his brother.

“Focus.” She spied a police cruiser a block ahead and pulled her seatbelt across her torso.

Dana and Sarah had a real knack for predicting peoples’ movements. They could find a person who’d been missing for days in a matter of hours. Astrid had always had to work harder at it. Her photographic memory was excellent for remembering street configurations and shortcuts, but it didn’t do her a lick of good if her targets had already moved on from those streets.

“Okay. Motives. Think motives.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and gave the sub shop they’d stopped at earlier a long stare. He wasn’t visible through the wide glass window. Probably wasn’t there.

Before she’d left the room to call Eric, Fabian had seemed a bit annoyed at her last-minute sexual rebuff, but she hadn’t pegged him as the petty sort. Even if he possessed the sort of cheek that would send him out in search of condoms in the middle of the afternoon, he wouldn’t have taken every item he owned with him.

He wouldn’t be heading toward the airport because he still had a job left to do. He still needed
Jacques
.

“Shit.”

She pulled a wide U-Turn and headed back toward the motel. She passed it, and two miles up the road, found Fabian queuing up outside a visitor’s center, waiting to board a bus toward the Badlands.

“Slick,” she muttered, and edged the car around a massive pothole in the lot.

She idled the car in the loading zone and pressed the horn.

The entire group of tourists turned to look, but most got bored fairly quickly and resumed their former conversations. Only Fabian continued staring, and Astrid couldn’t be sure at that distance, but she thought she saw him rolling his eyes.

She honked again, snapped the fingers of her right hand, and pointed to the passenger seat.

Fabian shook his head, but strode toward the vehicle all the same. When he paused at the driver’s door, she motored down the window.

“Get in.”

“No. Go home.”

“You know what? You—” She grunted and gave the steering wheel a little pound. Where was a stress ball when she needed one? She had about twelve of the damned things at any given time, and Dana made sure she always carried one on her person. She’d brought one with her on the trip, but something about the gel composition led to its confiscation by TSA at the Raleigh-Durham airport. She’d need to find another one, and soon, or that steering wheel would be reduced to a small pile of metal, vinyl, and foam.

Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths. Don’t be that woman. You’re not that woman anymore. You’re bigger than your anger. Be like the ninja monk. Deadly, but calm.

Deadly, but calm.

She drew in one frosty inhale through her nose, and forced it out through her lips, never taking her eyes off the defiant absconder.

“Please. Get. In. The. Car,” she said.

He shook his head. “I go on bus.”

“Why?”

“I will…” His mouth opened and closed around the words that didn’t come out. Finally, he shrugged. “I can.”

“You
can’t
. Not unless you plan on putting a bullet through the guy’s head from a distance, which isn’t what we want. We want to take him alive so we can find out the extent of all the dirt he has done over the past forty years. Besides, even if I thought the bullet-through-his-head idea was a good one, between the two of us, I’m way more qualified to take that shot. Nine times out of ten, I hit my target, and that one time left over, I get close enough to make them hurt really bad.”

Fabian’s eyebrows made a slow creep upward.

“You don’t understand a damned thing I just said.”

“You say I
can’t
, and…” He raised his shoulders and let them fall.

She sighed. Eventually she’d have to get around to reading that damned dictionary cover-to-cover. She wouldn’t have a handle on the grammar, but she’d know the words. For now, a touch would have to do. She held out her hand, and he pulled his own from his pocket and grasped her fingers.

“You can’t do this by yourself. I understand the compulsion. Really, I do. Dana gets on us all the time for us trying to do shit without backup. I thought you wanted him caught, though. Turned in.”

“Maybe now I feel like him sitting in a jail cell waiting for a trial or extradition is a fate too good for him.”

“You think he needs killin’?”

Fabian didn’t have to answer. His twitching cheek told her everything she needed to know.

She lowered her voice to a near whisper as a Rapid City police officer strolled nearer the vehicle. “Why don’t you get in the car and we’ll talk about it?”

“I don’t want to wait hours or days to get after him. I think it’s critical now that I’ve disappeared that we move. They’ve probably already started shifting their camp.”

“Let’s talk about it. Come on. We’ll go get a good dinner and call that federal agent so we can get Dana off my back. Then we’ll make a good plan. Please.”

Was she begging? She wasn’t used to it, and didn’t like the feeling. All she knew was that she couldn’t let this man slip out on his own and play vigilante. Righteous anger wasn’t a good enough weapon against real evil. He needed a plan, some backup, and a lot of luck.

He nodded, and loosened his grip on her fingers, but before he could take a step toward the hood, the policeman put up his hands.

“Hold on. Let’s talk for a moment. You got some ID, ma’am? Sir?”

“What for?” Astrid asked. “I realize I’m in a loading zone, but I
am
loading. I’m picking this gentleman up, and we’re going to be on our way the moment he puts on his seatbelt.”